


Skin Deep

by Kirathaune



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirathaune/pseuds/Kirathaune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo’s scars might make him less attractive to some people, but Goku thinks they’re sexy. </p><p>Minor spoilers for the most recent chapters of Blast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sekaiseifuku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaiseifuku/gifts).



In Goku’s opinion, Sanzo getting half his face almost burnt off was the best thing that had happened to the monk in a very long time.  
  
Of course, he’d looked terrible when Goku had found him lying in the smoking rubble of the inner yard of Sharak’s fortress. Hakkai had spent hours and hours healing him, and Sanzo had spent countless more hours in drug-assisted sleep. But after four days, Hakkai’s hard work had paid off, and pretty much all that was left to show of Sanzo’s confrontation with Kougaiji was a scarred, damaged right arm, which was still swathed in bandages, and a scar on his right cheek.  
  
Goku had a suspicion that Sanzo _liked_ having the scar on his face.  
  
The suspicion first surfaced when they’d all gathered for dinner the first night after Sanzo woke up. Sharak had clapped her fellow monk on the back and welcomed him to the ‘scar-face club’, and damn if Goku hadn’t seen the barest hint of a satisfied smile on Sanzo’s face.  
  
In the days that followed as they traveled toward Taruchie’s mountain temple, Goku had seen that almost-smile a few more times during their stays at the tiny inns that dotted the rocky, mountain pass; once, when the flirtatious note in a server’s voice changed when Sanzo turned his head, and and another time when comments about the ‘pretty monk’ had cut off in choked silence when the drunk commenter caught a glimpse of Sanzo’s ruined cheek. Goku noticed that in each incident, Sanzo had made sure that they saw the scarred side of his face.  
  
It was mindfuckery of the highest level, and the surprising result was a less tightly-wound, (slightly) less trigger-happy Sanzo.  
  
Although Sanzo was still pissed about having to sit in the back of the Jeep, Goku noted.  
  
Ever since they’d joined up with Sharak and her men, Sanzo had been relegated to riding in the back of the Jeep with him and Gojyo, something that Goku found hilarious even as he enjoyed the rarity of riding next to Sanzo. Before his injury, Sanzo had sat pretty close to him—which Goku assumed was because closer to him meant further away from Gojyo—but now that his still-healing arm was vulnerable, he’d taken to partially leaning against Goku.  
  
Goku didn’t mind that one bit.  
  
It was win-win-win; he got to enjoy the warmth of Sanzo’s side and leg pressing against him, he could breathe in the intoxicating mix of Sanzo’s sweat and the spicy sweetness of the burn salve Hakkai had made—something that made Sanzo smell kind of delicious—and their new proximity gave Goku an unobstructed view of Sanzo’s face, which was now free of the bandage he’d been wearing.  
  
Goku thought that the scar on Sanzo’s cheek made him look badass.  
  
Sexy, too.  
  
He let his gaze travel over the web of raised, reddened skin that marred Sanzo’s otherwise pale cheek. It looked a little like tree bark, gnarled and ridged, and Goku wondered how it would feel beneath his fingers. It probably still hurt, and he imagined that with time—and Hakkai’s chi—the pain would go away, and the scar itself would lessen and fade.  
  
Goku hoped it wouldn’t fade completely, because it looked cool. Really cool. And sexy.  
  
Sanzo’s head suddenly swiveled toward him. “What are you looking at?” he demanded.  
  
Goku swallowed. “Um, just… your scar.”  
  
Sanzo’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer. “What about it?”  
  
“It looks really se—cool,” Goku blurted. _Crap!_ He tried to ignore the heat that surged to his cheeks.  
  
A slightly singed eyebrow lifted, and then Sanzo rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the road ahead of them. “Moron,” he said.  
  
Goku waited a few minutes, and then he risked glancing again at Sanzo’s face.  
  
It took another secretive glance to know for sure, but Goku could swear he saw that smile again.  
  
* * *  
  
Goku sighed contentedly as he finished toweling his hair dry. There had been plenty of hot water for his shower, and he had his own room! He draped the towel on the back of one of the chairs, changed into a teeshirt and sleep pants, and flung himself onto the bed.  
  
Dinner had been terrific. Sharak was well known and respected in the area, so the innkeeper and his wife had prepared a small feast for their guests. There had been plenty of beer to wash down the spicy meal, and Goku had been persuaded to try some of the local spirits, served in impossibly tiny cups.  
  
Stretching luxuriously, Goku wiggled his toes while he watched the light from the oil lamp on his nightstand dance on the rough-hewn timbers of the room’s ceiling. He might be a little drunk, he conceded. Just a little. Who knew you were supposed to just sip the shit that came in the little cups?  
  
He started when his bedroom door opened and Sanzo walked into the room, clad only in his jeans. “Hey, Sanzo,” he said as he swung up to a sitting position. “What’s up?”  
  
“Here,” Sanzo said, and tossed a jar at him.  
  
Years of honed reflexes allowed Goku to catch the jar without a thought. He stared at it. “What’s this?”  
  
“It’s the skin salve that Hakkai’s been using on my burns. It’s a pain in the ass to put it on myself, so you can do it.” Sanzo put a small, half-full bottle of whiskey on the table, and then he took a roll of bandaging from his back pocket and set it next to the bottle. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.  
  
Only Sanzo could turn a request for help into a demand. “Okay,” Goku said, and he rose from the bed. He dragged the other chair over to where Sanzo was, sat down and then he carefully removed the gauze from Sanzo’s arm and shoulder. He was surprised to see that the raw, ragged skin he had seen a few days earlier was healing nicely, although a network of angry red scars remained. “Wow,” Goku said, “this looks so much better than it did the first day.”  
  
Sanzo took a belt of the whiskey. “I heard that you spent most of your time helping to repair the damage to the fortress and the village,” he said.  
  
Goku nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I figured it was important to help, and besides, I could worry about you while I worked.” He opened the jar, dipped a few fingers into the creamy, fragrant salve and spread it on Sanzo’s shoulder.  
  
“Idiot,” Sanzo snorted, and he lifted his free hand to the top of Goku’s head and briefly ruffled his hair.  
  
Goku smiled at the touch, and the implied ‘attaboy’ behind it. “Mmm, this stuff smells good,” he said. He began working the salve into Sanzo’s scarred skin, hesitating when he saw Sanzo grimace. “Hurts?”  
  
“Like a bitch,” Sanzo said through gritted teeth. “Keep going.” He drank some more of the whiskey.  
  
Goku continued his ministrations, and for a while there was silence between them, except for Sanzo’s occasional grunts of pain. Goku massaged the ridged skin with his thumbs, moving them in slow circles to rub in the healing salve. When he was about halfway done he glanced at Sanzo’s face, and he saw that Sanzo’s eyes were closed. Although his brows would draw together when Goku worked on a particularly rough patch, Sanzo was the most relaxed Goku had seen him in a long time.  
  
Goku finished applying the salve to Sanzo’s hand, and then he wrapped the injured limb in fresh gauze. When he was done, Sanzo opened his eyes and reached for the whiskey.  
  
“Wait,” Goku said, “I still need to do your face.”  
  
Sanzo scowled and set the bottle down.  
  
This time Goku worked with his fingertips, sweeping the ointment along Sanzo’s cheekbone, over the scars on his cheek, down to his jawline. The injured skin felt a bit like the tree bark he had imagined earlier, only softer. It was strangely intimate, sitting so close, touching Sanzo like this, and Goku felt the warmth of arousal slowly coiling low in his belly, where it mixed with the warmth of the liquor he’d imbibed earlier.  
  
“You look so badass with this scar,” Goku murmured, tracing the pads of his fingertips over the puckered skin. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t heal so fast… it would be cool to have a scar like this.”  
  
There was genuine amusement in Sanzo’s eyes. “Yeah, well, this probably won’t last too long, if Hakkai has his way,” Sanzo said. “He touches my face when I’m sleeping, doesn’t he?”  
  
Goku ducked his head to try and hide his grin. “Yeah, sometimes.”  
  
“Fucker.”  
  
Goku laughed. “He can’t help himself,” he said. “I’m glad he was able to heal your eye, though—they’re too nice to get messed up.” Without thinking he reached over and brushed a lock of golden blond hair away from Sanzo’s right eye.  
  
Sanzo went very still, and his good hand shot out to grip Goku’s arm.  
  
Goku blinked. “Sanzo?” Too late, he realized what he’d just done.  
  
Sanzo watched him intently, an unreadable expression on his face. “Earlier today, in the Jeep, when you said you thought my scar was cool, you had started to say something else.”  
  
Goku shook his head and looked down, even as his heart started pounding.  
  
“What was it?”  
  
“N-nothin.’” Goku kept his gaze on the floor.  
  
“Don’t lie to me.”  
  
He was done for. “Sexy,” Goku admitted, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
“You think my scar is sexy.”  
  
“Yeah.” When Sanzo released his arm Goku waited for the blows to come, for Sanzo to pull the fan out of nowhere and beat the shit out of him.  
  
The last thing he expected was to be yanked closer and kissed.  
  
With tongue.  
  
Goku grabbed the arms of the chair to keep from falling over, and he eagerly responded to the onslaught of rough, hungry kisses. Sanzo’s tongue moved wetly against his, and Goku tasted whiskey and the smoky remnants of Sanzo’s last cigarette. Careful to keep to Sanzo’s left side, Goku slid his fingers into the soft, silky hair that he’d longed for years to touch, and when he pushed his tongue into Sanzo’s mouth to explore he savored the resulting groan.  
  
They kissed until Goku thought his lungs would burst, and then he pulled away, panting. Sanzo’s eyes were dark and turbulent, and he let go of Goku’s shirt to slide his hand along the side of Goku’s neck, resting his thumb on Goku’s wildly throbbing pulse.  
  
“Sanzo, I—” Goku wanted to touch, to taste, to… what? A myriad of possibilities rushed through his mind, fueled by years of fantasies, and his dick wanted to try out every single one. But the white of Sanzo’s bandages caught his eye, and Goku realized that some things were not really doable at the moment. “I…”  
  
“What do you want, Goku?” Sanzo’s voice was low and husky.  
  
Goku shuddered when Sanzo’s thumb brushed over his lower lip. “I… I d-don’t know,” he stammered. Something. Anything. _Everything_.  
  
Sanzo leaned forward, and Goku shivered when strands of Sanzo’s hair tickled his cheek. “Suck me off,” Sanzo said, his breath warm and damp against Goku’s ear.  
  
Goku dropped to his knees so fast that he almost knocked his chair over, and he watched avidly while Sanzo unfastened his jeans and freed his erection. He moved in between Sanzo’s parted legs and bent over, and after running his tongue along the underside of Sanzo’s dick, he took the hardened length into his mouth.  
  
He let out a muffled yelp when Sanzo cuffed him on the side of his head.  
  
“Watch your teeth, dumbass,” Sanzo hissed.  
  
Goku released him. “S’not like I’ve done this before,” he said, glaring up at Sanzo.  
  
“You better not have done this before.”  
  
Goku tried again, and this time he must have gotten it right, because Sanzo groaned and leaned back in the chair.  
  
Goku closed his eyes and reveled in a wave of sensory overload. The musky scent of Sanzo’s arousal mixed with the bitter-salt taste of the pre-come that Goku lapped from the tip of Sanzo’s dick, and the sweet, earthy smell of the honey and almond butter salve only sharpened his appetite. Sanzo’s good hand was in his hair, threading through soft, spiky strands, pressing lightly to encourage him to move faster, suck harder, take him in deeper, and Goku was happy to comply.  
  
His own labored breathing faded from his awareness until Goku only heard the rhythmic creaking of the chair, and the pleasure-noises that Sanzo made. Each hitch of Sanzo’s breath, each soft grunt, each almost-moan just added to the fire that was building in Goku’s groin, making his own dick achingly hard.  
  
Goku was about to reach down and touch himself when Sanzo stiffened, and seconds later Goku’s mouth was flooded with the wet warmth of Sanzo’s release. He hungrily swallowed the bitter fluid, and then he pulled back and looked up at Sanzo with a grin.  
  
“Fuck, what a mouth you have,” Sanzo murmured, tracing a finger along Goku’s swollen lips. He reached out and tugged down the waistband of Goku’s sleep pants.  
  
Goku groaned and gripped the chair when he felt Sanzo’s callused fingers close around his dick.  
  
“Quiet,” Sanzo said, “or I stop.”  
  
Goku nodded vigorously and watched, transfixed, while Sanzo stroked him. Each tug, each pull, each flick of Sanzo’s thumb sent waves of pleasure sweeping through him, and Goku struggled to say quiet. His heart raced, his pulse pounded in his ears, and he could hear the ragged pants of his breathing as the tight knot of heat in his groin became almost unbearable. When his climax overtook him Goku bit his lip to keep from crying out, and he tasted the iron tang of blood as he watched his come spurt over Sanzo’s fingers. When Sanzo released him, he looked up and met Sanzo’s dark gaze.  
  
Sanzo wiped his fingers on the discarded gauze before he yanked Goku close for a hard, rough kiss. He pushed Goku away. “Go clean up,” he said, and he reached for the bottle of whiskey.  
  
Goku lurched to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, touched his swollen, reddened lips, and then he grinned at himself. “Sanzos really do taste awesome,” he whispered, and stifled the urge to giggle. He washed himself and gave his teeth a quick brushing, and then he bounded back into to the room.  
  
Sanzo was gone, and the only thing left on the table was the jar of salve.  
  
Goku picked up the jar and turned it in his hands as he studied the closed door to his room. His thoughts were jumbled, his elation at the change in their relationship at odds with his disappointment that Sanzo hadn’t stayed. Had Sanzo left because he’d regretted what they’d done? Goku didn’t think so. Besides, Sanzo was still injured, and he probably wanted to sleep, alone, in his own room.  
  
 _His own room_. Goku glanced around at his cramped quarters. They all had their own rooms! That was probably the reason. It would look funny if Sanzo stayed in Goku’s room when he already had one of his own.  
  
Besides, he would see Sanzo in the morning. He tucked the jar into his pack, and then Goku crawled into bed, shut off the lamp, and gave himself over to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
“Morning, guys,” Goku said as he walked into the inn’s tiny common room. A half dozen or so voices greeted him in return.  
  
At the end of the long dining table, Sanzo turned the page of his newspaper.  
  
Goku accepted a laden plate from the innkeeper’s wife, and for a moment he stood still in front of the crowded table, unsure of where to go. Part of him wanted to go over and sit next to Sanzo, to let their thighs touch beneath the table, to feel the flare of warmth from the contact, and to enjoy the slow burn of arousal. But there wasn’t really any extra space at Sanzo’s end of the table, and if Goku wanted to sit there he would have to ask people to make room for him.  
  
Sanzo gave his newspaper a shake to straighten out a bend in one of the pages, and a violet gaze briefly flicked over Goku before Sanzo returned his attention to what he was reading.  
  
The action was not a random one, and it dawned on Goku that this was a test, of sorts. Of course Sanzo was going to act like nothing had happened between them, it was stupid to think otherwise. Sanzo didn’t want the others to know what had happened between them, and Goku realized he didn’t want them to know, either. The most amazing thing about the previous night—besides Sanzo jerking him off—had been to see desire and pleasure on that beautiful, scarred face, and it had been for only him to see. Goku wanted to see Sanzo that way again. He wanted to do all that stuff again—and more—so he figured that he should act like nothing had happened, too.  
  
“Hey, Pemba, scoot over,” he said to one of the young men in Sharak’s retinue. The youth grinned and made room for Goku on the bench, and Goku joked with the others while he dug into his excellent breakfast. Sanzo stayed behind the newspaper, and Goku was okay with that.  
  
He had barely finished his third helping when Sharak rose from the table. “Time to go,” she said. There was the clatter of tableware and the scrape of chairs against the tiled floor as everyone else followed suit. Goku hurriedly finished eating, and before he left he grabbed a couple of sweet rolls from the basket in front of him.  
  
Sharak’s men were already in their wagon when Goku left the inn and Sharak had once again taken Sanzo’s usual seat. Sanzo was sitting in the back of the Jeep, smoking, and his bag sat on the ground near the rear wheel. Goku quickly stowed his and Sanzo’s packs in one of Jeep’s compartments, and then he climbed in and sat next to Sanzo, shifting to allow Sanzo room to lean against him if needed.  
  
Gojyo and Hakkai were the last to arrive.  
  
“You didn’t let me apply the skin salve last night, Sanzo,” Hakkai said as he settled into his seat.  
  
“I had Goku do it,” Sanzo said. “He did a decent enough job.”  
  
“But the scarring—”  
  
“Ain’t nothing wrong with scars, Hakkai,” Gojyo said, plopping down onto the Jeep’s other rear bench. “Scars mean you lived.” He jerked a thumb over at Goku. “Besides, the monkey has gotten pretty good at patching us up. Let him do it for now, and you take a break.”  
  
Goku blinked at the unexpected praise.  
  
Hakkai turned in his seat and regarded Sanzo. “I’ll still want to continue the chi treatments on your arm,” he insisted.  
  
Sanzo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. He took a final drag from his cigarette and flicked the butt away. “Let’s get going.”  
  
Hakkai sighed and started the Jeep, and their combined party continued to make their way up the mountain.  
  
It occurred to Goku that Sanzo was sitting a little closer to him today. This morning there was warmth all along his left side, and he could feel Sanzo’s thigh pressing against his. Like yesterday, Sanzo was leaning against Goku’s arm and shoulder, but today Sanzo’s injured arm was practically in Goku’s lap.  
  
Not that Goku minded. And he especially didn’t mind the bumps in the road that made Sanzo sit even closer.  
  
“Will we reach the temple by this evening?” Hakkai asked.  
  
“No, we have one more overnight stay,” Sharak replied, “and the inn we’ll stop at tonight is much smaller than the place we just left. My men will bunk in the wagon, and you four will have to double up.”  
  
For perhaps the first time since their journey began, Goku was grateful to not have a single room. He wondered how he could finagle it so that he got to share with Sanzo.  
  
“That’s no problem at all,” Hakkai told Sharak. “We’re used to sometimes having to all share a single room—and even that’s better than camping outside.”  
  
“Amen,” Gojyo said.  
  
“Goku, you should probably room with Sanzo, since you’re going to be taking care of his burns,” Hakkai said.  
  
 _Yes!_ Goku struggled to keep any eagerness out of his voice when he said, “Okay.”  
  
A moment later he felt Sanzo’s leg bump against his. He glanced over at Sanzo, and warmth spread through him when he saw the heat and hunger in Sanzo’s eyes, and the way that Sanzo’s gaze dropped to his mouth.  
  
“You’d better not snore, monkey,” Sanzo said, and he looked away.  
  
Snoring required sleeping, and Sanzo’s expression promised a sleepless night.  
  
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Goku said.


End file.
